


Lusus Naturae

by FoxLight



Series: The Strawberry Shortcake Chronicles [20]
Category: Tales of Arcadia (Cartoons), Trollhunters - Daniel Kraus & Guillermo del Toro
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:06:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23678107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FoxLight/pseuds/FoxLight
Summary: Tensions rise between the doctor and the changeling in the weeks following the battle.
Relationships: Barbara Lake/Walter Strickler | Stricklander
Series: The Strawberry Shortcake Chronicles [20]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/753342
Comments: 43
Kudos: 82





	1. The Fight

On the rooftop of the apartment complex, Barbara fixed her gaze against the stars, desperate find his silhouette against their light, but the heavens were empty, leaving her heart even more so. 

Sitting atop one of the patio chairs, her shoulders sank. Walter, Toby, and AAARRRGGHH!!! had left hours ago to scout the perimeters of the city, laying wards against potential threats and neutralizing residual enemies, but they’d been gone longer than usual--hours longer. It was probably nothing, but Walter hadn’t exactly left in the best mood, and her patience was already fraying from the stress of the week. 

She _should_ be downstairs, she thought, running a hand through her ruddy hair; there was still so much work to do. Walt had left her in his apartment to review the schematics and blueprints for the Janus order’s old headquarters. He’d taken her down there a few days prior, having already cleared the bones with hired goblins, to discuss converting the entire base into a sanctuary for the familiars. It was an excellent idea, in her opinion, because they were running out of time. Merlin had given them a estimate of one month before they would have to extract the children. Three weeks in, and they were still cleaning up after the battle—working hard to locate and detain any remaining Gumm-Gumms, and trying desperately to thwart an eager press. Time was scarce, but they worked with what they could. Already, they’d converted an old training arena into a rudimentary nursery, where some two-thousand cradles were being dutifully assembled by pale goblins who were eager to get back to their jobs as infant caretakers. It felt odd, picturing the stringy creatures with binkys and bottles at hand, but Walter had assured her that, despite their dense nature, they were nothing short of excellent with the children. Bedding, clothing, and formula were being shipped by the truckload to various Janus warehouses throughout the city, and Barbara couldn't even count the number of diaper bins and safety locks she'd ordered.

All throughout this process, she’d been keeping a careful eye on Walter. He’d been, in a word, _distant_ in the days following the battle. Part of it was a lack of time, but the other part was...something else. Despite their time together, they weren’t _together._ The last time they’d been close had been after Jim left for New Jersey when, frozen in place after watching the glowing armor fade, she'd felt his taloned hand on her shoulder. Handing the cradle stone to Toby and AAARRRGGHH!!! for safekeeping, he’d picked her up, flown her to a nearby mountainside, and held her until the sun had fully set. It was only once her tears had dried against his rumbling chest, that he’d pulled back. 

...and that was it. Nothing. Not even a kiss. Which might have been understandable, save for the night they’d shared before. 

Since then, he’d poured himself into his work. Of his dead brethren, his way of mourning was to adapt, to change, to renew. Similarly, she kept herself busy from her worries over Jim. The hospital was overwhelmed with injuries, and she’d been doing her best to keep any convalescing trolls comfortable and away from the prying eyes of humans. NotEnrique had been a great help in that particular task, visiting bedsides and offering jokes in exchange for updates on each troll’s conditions. Walter, too, had stopped by on several occasions, bringing healing salves and crystals he’d savaged from Trollmarket or the Janus order’s base. It was then that she'd gotten the opportunity to witness him performing magic. They were "rudimentary spells and incantations, meant to carry out quick patches in battle, and better performed by a proper healer,” according to him, but they seemed to offer great results. Even the most badly wounded of patients, a troll who’s lost an arm and leg after being nicked by Angor’s poisons, was touting his efforts.

She liked watching him, of course; listening in on the song-like enchantments. Some were quick and low, like a rush of wind through leaf-laden trees, while others were intense and all consuming, setting the engravings on his body ablaze with fractals of colored light, like a wildfire in the dark. What color his body assumed seemed to depend on the spell, though typically it took on an off-white glow that broke down into patterns of rainbow when one got close. His eyes, too, would change in those moments, darkening until they were almost fully black. After every spell, he’d go quiet, having drained his reserve of energy, and would sluggishly sidle off to find tea or coffee. 

“Do you think I could learn?” She’d asked one day after once such occasion, watching him pour buttermilk into his tea in the break room. 

He’d turned, the blackness still fading back to yellow in his eyes, and gave her a hollow look. 

“Walter?" she’d moved to brush his shoulder, startled by the desolation, but he growled and shrank away.

“S-sorry,” he’d grumbled after she eyed him sharply, red brows furrowed in confusion. “I am a creature of dark magic. There is always a cost, however temporary.”

If there was further explanation, he didn’t give it. She'd spent hours wondering over the dull obscurity in his eyes. 

The next few days were exponentially exhausting: more work, more planning, more lives on the line. They decided to keep some of the more vulnerable babies—be it illness, or disability--at her house, so a portion of their efforts moved there. The way it highlighted the increasing gulf between them drove her mad. They spoke, of course, and even laughed, but all with a calculated distance he seemed conscious to maintain. It was strange, how they could spent so much time and not touch. Only once had she dared, having caught him asleep in her basement while constructing a crib. She'd watched his chest rise up and down for a while, wings tucked tight around his body as he leaned against the partially-constructed cage. Tentatively, she’d reached out, until the back of her hand could brush against an emerald-toned cheek. His stone was warm from it’s exposure to the furnace, and she marveled as it’s features softened beneath her fingers, the soft growl beneath his breath growing lower and longer. 

“ _I love you,_ ” she’d whispered, mind flashing to the morning they’d woken together before the battle. Those eyes of his, verdant and vulnerable, had stolen her heart all over again. Now, his golden gaze was harder to read; she questioned whether love still lingered in it’s depths. 

He wasn’t the only one falling asleep in odd places, of course. She’d managed, quite a few times, to nod off while working with him. On one such occasion, she’d woken, half-conscious, to find him lifting her from a stack of vellum codexes (most covering troll physiology and medicine) that she’d piled up on the small dining table in his apartment. Taking her to his bedroom, he’d covered her in his dark sheets, drawing the curtains even further from the light outside. The hand drifting through her hair felt cool and familiar, and he was _rumbling_ in a way she now recognized as indicating fondness. She’d slipped back into a deeper slumber with the noise, dreams soft and full of light.

Later, she woke alone, wondering how long he’d stayed there. 

That had only been a few days ago, and hope began tentatively to chafe at the anxieties she'd built up. It didn't last. Every time she believed they were making progress something happened--like earlier that morning, when she’d backed her car out of the driveway to find the word “monsterfucker” spray-painted on her garage door. 

Teenagers, no doubt, but fueled by their parents’ convictions. Not everyone accepted the presence of trolls in Arcadia. 

Walter had been, in a word, furious when Toby sent him the picture. Stuck at his home until nightfall, he’d had nothing to do but brood for hours. When she’d finally come over after work (choosing a lengthy but restorative walk from the hospital), she’d found him puffing at the door, his steel-feathered cloak glinting heavily in the light. The target he’d set along the far wall was full of knives. 

“They did this because of _me_.” He’d grumbled as she entered and pulled out the blueprints they were to review, stretching them over his desk. “Because I’ve been going over there.”

“Walter, you can’t blame yourself." She'd tried to soothe him. "It could be AAARRRGGHH!!! They're seeing, for all you know. And it doesn't matter, anyways.”

But that hadn’t convinced him, and when he’d left to go on patrol that evening, she'd had a feeling what his intentions would be. Walter wasn’t one to leave things unfinished. He was going to track the perpetrator down, and God knew what he planned to do after. 

Now, staring out over the twinkling city, her heart quivered. Both of them were running ragged. She'd been trying to give him space, give him time, but what if that was the wrong approach? Even trolls had limits, or half trolls, or whatever he was. What if, in the building distance between them, he’d stretched himself too thin? What kind of doctor was she is she couldn't prevent that?

Grabbing her cell phone from her pocket, she decided to put her worries at ease. His voicemail answered. Twice. With a quiet scoff, she dialed another number. 

“Hey, Dr. L!” Toby’s voice chirruped from the other end. "What's crackin'?"

“Hi Toby,” she said, biting her lip, “is Walt still with you guys?” 

“That’s a negative.” A cold bolt of fear ran down her spine. “We stopped laying wards about two hours ago. Things were pretty quiet, so we decided to call it a night. Why? What’s up?”

“Nothing,” she said quickly. “Just trying to confirm something. Thanks kiddo; get some sleep.”

“Same back at you. Tell Jim I said hi if you talk to him before I do. Goodnight!”

“Niiiighhht!” She heard AAARRRGGHH!!! thunder in the background. 

A call with NotEnrique yielded similar results, though he’d caught her at the end. “He’ll come around, Doc. Don’t you worry.” And she was left wondering whether he referred to the metaphorical. 

Pinching the bridge of her nose, she steadied her breath against a rush of panic she hadn’t felt since Jim’s nights acting out and not coming home. With her son gone, and her world turned upside-down, Walter was the only thing that seemed to ground her. Just being around him--hearing the quiet cadence of his trollish voice, basking in the warm glow of his honey-colored eyes, losing herself to his rapier wit--made her feel more at ease. What he'd done before was sinking increasingly deeper into the past, where it belonged. His actions now spoke of atonement, even if they were steeped in hesitance, and losing him now would be devastating. 

Just when she'd thought to go back downstairs to make tea--some small comfort to recall his presence--she heard it, the heavy flap of stone wings in the dark. Looking up, she spied his lustrous eyes against the stars. 

“Barbara? What are you doing up here?” He asked as he landed with a raptor's grace in front of her, the wind from his wing-beats tousling her hair. “Are you alright?”

“Am I alr-?” Her voice snagged in a her throat, relief somehow catalysing her panic. “N—no Walter! Where the _hell_ have you been?" She thundered towards him. "You’ve been gone for _hours_ longer than usual. I thought you were coming back to help me. You didn’t answer your phone. Toby said you weren’t with them, and all I've done is think about worst-case scenarios! I’ve been absolutely _beside_ myself with worry.”

For a moment, he looked taken aback, wings half-folded as he froze. 

“I’m entirely capable of handling myself alone, doctor.” he said, tone reflecting pique. “You know that. Why should you worry?”  
  
“Why?” She ran a hand over her face, incredulous. “Because I care about you!”

Eyes running calculations, he stared. It was evident that he wasn't used to being looked after.

“You went after whoever spray painted my house, didn’t you?” She pushed past his silence, seething.

“Yes.” 

“Did you find them?”

“I did." His wings accordioned. "Two young men. Twenty-or-so. Quite religious.”

“ _What_ did you do with them?”

“You think I hurt them, don’t you?” The changelings jaw hardened after another stark pause, tusks jutting out as his eyes narrowed with severity. “Like some sort an animal, because I look like this.” 

Her own teeth hurt from how much she had been clenching them. She felt her lip quiver. “Don’t you dare accuse me of that.”

“I called Detective Scott and had him detain them, like any _civilized_ creature would.” The words were short and seething, intent on searing a line between then. “They’ll be held accountable. But go on, Barbara, let me hear what you _really_ think,” he stepped forward. 

“I think you’re so used to having people reject you when you’re like this that your imposing those behaviours on me.” She swallowed, lips drawn tight as the dam finally broke between them "You’re right though, I feel like I don’t know you, like I can't predict what you’re going to do from one moment to the next, but it has nothing to do with you looking like a troll and everything to do with how you’ve been acting these past few weeks. It's as though you’ve been trying to convince yourself that we were never close, so it won’t hurt as much when you push me away. If that's the case, it's not working. It hurts, Walter.”

His talons shone like black ice as he clenched his fists, eyes changing from yellow to a deep and vibrant green.

“Why are you doing this?” Her brows creased, heart hanging in the air. " _Please,_ tell me."

“Look at what’s happened already." He finally said, words fuming like smoke. "It’s not right for you to be roped into this because of what I am, this _freak of nature,_ ” he spat. “We wouldn’t just be getting it from humans, either. Trolls have always despised my kind and they, like humans, marry prejudice with violence. There’s a target on back that doesn’t need to be on yours. You’re at enough risk being Jim’s mother.”

“Okay, I’m hearing a lot of reasons why you _shouldn’t_ want me. I need to know if you do. The night before the battle, you seemed to. I mean god, Walt, you told me you--” She cut herself off, balling her lab coat in her fists. “What changed?”

“I didn’t realize--”

“What, that my care for you extended beyond your usefulness to Jim?” Her blue eyes were curt. 

“I knew I wouldn’t return as a human. I doubted I would return at all.” He added softly, “That night, I wanted you, but it wasn’t just about gratification, I--” Yellow eyes searched for the right words. “You deserved to be with the _man_ who loved you one last time, even if he didn’t deserve you back.”

“So,” head hanging low, she grasped her arms, distancing herself both physically and emotionally. “you don’t feel that way now that you’re like this.”

“I didn’t say that.”

Her face was desperate, pleading. “Then what _are_ you saying?”

Repulsion loomed in his voice as he growled. “You couldn’t possibly want this.”

“Why not? What’s so hard to believe?”

“Look at me, Doctor. This body is coarse and jagged.” Dark talons scraped against the stone of his chest, rock against rock. “The engravings on it are symbols of war,” His hands passed over the lines on his stomach. “It would be bad enough if I were simply a troll, but I’m a changeling. I was designed. Forged, like a weapon. Like a _machine._ Cold, _sterile,_ ,” he lingered on the word, and she could feel the pain it brought him, “unforgiving,” stepping away from her, he tucked his wings around his shoulders, “...and unforgivable. You are owed better.”

“Owed?” she nearly growled herself, blue eyes sharp, albeit watering. “ _Walter_ ”

He merely gawked, horns swaying as he sighed. 

“For God’s sake, this isn’t a transaction. I can’t just replace you like a cheap sweater. The things we’ve been through...” she trailed off, gaze brushing the ground. “I don’t want something better. I want _this_. ” As she spoke, she stepped forward, reaching for his hand. “Crust on, remember?”

For a moment, his face softened with such an expression of longing that it nearly stole her breath, long throat bobbing in a swallow as his eyes scanned hers. Then a hardness came over them that had nothing to do with stone. 

“You’re not thinking clearly.” He took his hand back, and the cruelty struck her. “This isn’t what you would imagine.” 

“Neither is having a half-troll for a son,” her lip started to tremble again, “but you seemed to think that I would be perfectly capable of handling that.”

That one set him pacing, throat rumbling as he strode away to plant his gaze into the velvet skyline. Lights flickered above and below it, stars and street lights battling for attention. His own glowing eyes joined the fray, casting their light like a hook into the night, hungry for answers. Of course he was being daft, but it was too much to ask, having her join him, making her scratch away a life in the tremulous dark. 

“How do you expect this to work?” He finally said, glowering at the edge of the building. “I am a creature of shadow, our functioning hours are entirely different. And the children.” He went on, a amber eye flickering over his shoulder. “Barbara, I’m no father.” 

“Functioning hours? I’m a _doctor_. Half of the time I’m working the graveyard shift, so how does _that_ hold weight?” She challenged. “And no one’s saying you have to raise these kids. We just—ugh,” she wiped a stray tear from her eye, determined to stay stern. “You don’t owe these babies anything. _All_ of you had your lives stolen, but there’s no one else who has the funds or the infrastructure to do what you can for them. You have the agency to give them a chance, so why wouldn’t you?”

“I said the same of my brethren,” his voice crackled like blackened logs in a flame, “and look what happened to them.”

“Oh, Walter,” she reached into the air--wanting, more than anything, just to hold him. He wore his grief so well that she forgot he was enduring it. Instead, her fist closed, and she held it against her heart. 

“You see?” his wings shifted uncomfortably, clawed feet still hovering near the edge of the building as he faced away. “It doesn’t matter what I do. In the end, I lose. I lose everyone. ”

Closing her eyes, she took a steadying breath. “I know what it’s like to be responsible for other people’s lives, and to care about them, and to lose them because of a decision _I_ made. I’m extremely familiar with that guilt--maybe not on the same scale as you, but I’ve seen _a lot_ of flat-lines. Each time it makes me want to quit my job because who I am wasn’t enough to save them.” 

A rumble pulsed from somewhere in his chest, but nothing more. Drawing closer, she came to the edge of the building, until she could see the dim glow of his eyes--she would have assumed he was a gargoyle, save for that quiet flicker. 

“Walt, what happened to them wasn’t your fault,” she tried to speak past his protracted stare. “Gunmar’s game was rigged from the start. You can’t let that set a precedent for everything else—for every _one_ else.”

“She’s not done.” He said beneath his tusks. “The shadow realm won’t contain her forever. It’s a refuge, not a prison. She can control us, you know. Like puppets, and if she makes it back, it will be just as well that my bretheren are dead.”

“You’re talking about Morgana,” she fixed her gaze on the cars filtering by below.

“I couldn’t help Jim fight her,” he went on, “she would have turned me against him. And she’ll turn me against you.” The space became darker as he closed his eyes. “I’ll have no power to fight it, and unlike the effects of the Decimar blade, my mind will be there to witness every moment.”

“You’ve fought it before.”

“Barely.” The words were tight in his throat. “And that was before she was freed. The familiars...we won’t know she’s back until its too late. They aren’t safe. If we use the former Janus headquarters as their sanctuary, I’m not sure I should stick around to see the end result. You need to work with the others to proof it against the threat of a changeling invasion. There aren’t many of us left, but one changeling would be enough.”

“Why would she want to kill them? What are they going to do? Squirt milk in her eyes? Gum her to death?”

“When you’ve been kept alive by magic for so long," he explained, tension easing as he slipped into the familiar praxis of education, "it is inevitable that you will absorb a certain amount of it. The children who are selected are already predisposed to it. Claire’s brother is a perfect example. There is obviously magic in her bloodline, else she wouldn’t have been able to wield the Skathe-Hrün, and she’s only grown more powerful since being used by Morgana to gain purchase in our realm. Like Claire, the familiars harbor sorcery in their veins, but unlike her, they’ve been connected to Morgana’s magic for far longer. They’re wizards, the whole lot of them, and they can be trained as a force against her.”

Blue eyes widened. “That’s all the more reason I could use your help. You know magic.”

“Barbara--”

“And you said yourself,” she interrupted, “that ever since you’ve been with me, she hasn’t been able to get as close to you. What makes you think I’m not enough?”

His frustration bubbled into another growl. “You don’t need me.”

“Who said anything about _needing_ you? These are _feelings_ , Walter.” She reclaimed the distance between them, forcing him to face her. “You might be great at pretending yours don’t exist, but you don’t have the right to pretend with mine. I _want_ you. “

“You shouldn’t,” the words were soft.

“What you’re telling me I should feel and what I actually feel are two different things.”

He wouldn’t look at her, choosing instead to let his eyes burn a hole into the sky. Finally, she scoffed.

“That night before the battle, you said you were mine, that _all_ of you was mine. Why the _hell_ would you say something like that, and then act like this.” She cleared her throat, barely able to speak past its tension. “You claim you’re afraid of hurting me? Well too late.” 

Turning away, she made a beeline towards the door to the elevator shaft. 

"I’ll fly you home," he strode quickly, trying to cut her off. "Or at least back to your car at the hospital. You're knackered."

“I can find my own way, thank you.” The door clinked heavily behind her.


	2. The Admission

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently this is four chapters now. Enjoy!

Three days and she hadn’t answered his calls.

Strickler tucked his cell phone into a pocket along his loincloth, throat rumbling as his frustrations mounted.

Maybe it was for the better, he surmised as he paced along the roof of his apartment complex. This was what he’d urged her towards, after all. A life without him. He’d pictured a more gradual fading away, of course, but this was the end goal. No longer would he have to worry about how she’d be treated in light of their relationship, or of what his enemies might do to her in the name of revenge against him...but then he’d seen how much it pained her.

There were still trolls in need of his aid at the hospital. He’d flown over there two nights prior, stepping through a back entrance and making his way to the locker room where Barbara kept spare clothing tucked away. She’d let him store a few trinkets in there--crystals and such--to aid in the small healing spells he doled out as to injured trolls as they convalesced. Inside the locker, taped along the door, there'd been a few pictures of Jim and his friends, along with a note Walter had left on her car one morning, long before Jim had stepped foot in the Darklands.

_Dear Barbara,  
I woke early, thinking of how you’ve been up the entire night hard at work. If it weren’t for an 8AM meeting, I’d steal you away to squander the morning on breakfast and kisses. At the risk of seeming overly affectionate, this note and the promise of future endeavors will have to suffice. You’re a stunning individual whose efforts in this world are appreciated. If you’ll allow me to demonstrate my adorations, I’d love to take you to dinner this evening. Sleep well, and don’t worry about Jim. I’ll keep an eye on him.  
X.O.  
Walter_

A small smile slipped past his tusks at the memory, and of what it had led to after.

It was then that the door of the room was thrust open, and his glowing eyes fell on the figure of the very woman he’d been thinking of. Stepping back, he finished tying the lace of multicolored crystals he’d gathered around his waste and look to her in dread.

Dark circles shone from beneath her eyes as she tossed a blood-stained lab coat into a sanitary laundry bin. Grabbing an extra pair of scrubs from her locker, she’d shut the door, keeping her eyes on the ground as she made her way to the women’s showers.

“Barbara.”

“Not now Walter,” he'd caught the shine of her eyes watering from whatever trauma they’d just beheld. “ _Not_ now.”

That she hadn’t had time to gown-up was telling. He’d left her alone for the rest of the evening, dipping down into the sewers below the hospital until night could fall and he could freely walk in the world above.

A few of the crystals still glimmered from his belt-line as he’d walked along the damp tunnels. He’d contacted AAARRRGGHH!!! for a trip down to the former Trollmarket to recharge them. There were still shards of Heartstone that could be mined from the rubble with enough lingering energy in them to serve his uses.

“Heard what happened.” AAARRRGGHH!!! rumbled as he'd lifted a boulder for Walter to search beneath. “Not right move.”

“Oh, what do you know?” Walter growled.

“Know you were stolen like me,” he grunted with the weight of the rock as Walter picked up a shard. “Mind poisoned by Gunmar. Can’t be at peace. All you think of is next fight.”

Well, the brute wasn’t wrong, he’d thought. Whether soldier or spy, they’d all been shaped to serve a purpose within the Gumm-Gumm agenda, their minds honed to endure battle.

AAARRRGGHH!!! dropped the boulder once Walter was clear of it. The rumble echoed across the caverns.

The changeling looked at him with a brow, steel-feathered cloak gleaming in the dim light of the shard..

“How did you find out, anyways?”

The large troll hummed and shook his head. “NotEnrique made glug. We talked.”

“Ah, the imp. Of course.” Not that he could blame anyone but himself for becoming the subject of bar talk. “Have you spoken to her? Is she alright?”

“MMMmmm," AAARRRGGHH!!! confirmed, "Bar-bu-rah sad. Used to being disappointed. Carries it well.”

The changeling felt his shoulders drop at the words, guilt settling in like a cloud.

“Can be happy.” The brute offered with a hopeful look. “ Blinky my way out of Darklands. Bar-bu-rah yours.” AAARRRGGHH!!! went to clap him on the back, but nicked his finger on Walter’s collar of knives. Hastily, he pulled away and shook his hand.

“Owie,” he put his finger in his mouth.

“Oh give me you hand, then,” Walter said as he held his own hand out. “They’re enchanted. It’ll sting worse than normal.”

The troll stuck his arm out and Walter placed a crystal to it. AAARRRGGHH!!! held his other hand to his eyes like a giant baby.

“Worse than creeper’s sun,” he groaned with a whimper.

“Yes, but not nearly as deadly,” Walter’s eyes darkened as he spoke a quick incantation. There was no brightening of the limbs this time, but he huffed all the same with the loss of energy. “It’s in the interest of changelings to keep their targets alive enough for interrogation.”

Something shifted in the darkness near them, and Walter could barely make out the amorphous figure of a hungry gruesome.

“Come on. I think we have enough for now.” The changeling said, fastening his belt again before stepping away. “We’d better clear out before we attract unwanted attention.”

***

Once night fell, he’d brooded. For so long, he’d focused on harnessing the powers of malevolence, on doing the _wrong_ thing for the _right_ reasons--to save his people, to save Barbara--but was it really for the best? His behavior beneath the threat of Morgana, Angor Rot and Gumar had been one thing. Now the only enemy he faced was the one he saw in the mirror.

That she wasn’t answering his calls only made things worse, and thus he'd found himself pacing his rooftop.

A long evening flight hadn’t helped; the usual run around with AAARRRGGHH!!! and Toby hadn’t either; even his tea betrayed him, leaving him feeling anxious rather than rejuvenated. He’d taken to the skies again after his second ‘cuppa,’ and even with hundreds of miles of uncrowded airspace around him, he felt trapped. Channeling most of his focus on powering through the strong currents of wind the night brought on, he hoped to exhaust himself enough to return home and pass out in the apartment. Before he knew it, however, his course had found him hovering over a rather familiar rooftop.

Most of the lights were off in the house, save for the lamp in her bedroom. Padding over the scratchy shingles, he made his way to her window, and his wings fell at the sight within. Curled in a fetal position above the blankets with her arms around a pillow, Barbara stared towards the open door of her bedroom into the dark and empty house, eyes as gray as slate. She wasn’t crying, but the hollowed-out look on her face told him everything he needed to know.

For a moment, he thought to rap on the window, but then she closed her eyes, and drifted to sleep with her glasses on. The flight home was heavy with the weight of his heart.

***

Sleep didn’t find him that morning.

In the haze of twilight, he flew. The sky only was only just breaking into the calmest of purples as he landed on the roof of the travel agency that served as one of the entrances to the Janus Order headquarters. Dropping down to the sidewalk, he switched to his collared cloak and fiddled with his keys until he found the right one. The door opened with a heavy creak, and he padded over to the desk in the center of the room to sit in the office chair, looking very much like a comic-book villain. Some fifteen minutes later, NotEnrique came scurrying across the street towards with the cradlestone strapped to his back.

“I had half a mind to ignore your text when ya asked for this,” NotEnrique glowered as Walter opened the door to let him in. “The doc don’t deserve what’s going on.”

“It’s not your business, cretin,” he seethed, though with little venom. “I’m trying to keep her safe. She has enough of a target on her back without my involvement.”

“Eh, that reminds me.” The imp said as he undid the straps and handed Walter the stone. “I heard somethin’ outside the house last night while me and the doc was havin’ a chat.”

This caught Walter's attention. “Yes?”

“By the time AAARRRGGHH!!! got there, it was gone, but boss, I could swear it was another changelin’. It weren’t no troll, I can tell ya that.”

“Hmm,” he tapped a claw against the engravings on his chin. “whatever it is, it’s unlikely to return until nightfall.”

“Yeah, I guess not.” NotEnrique scurried behind Walter as he walked back to the desk to place the cradlestone on its surface. “But you know, if it does return I think it should knock on the door next time, insteada’ hidin’ like a coward.”

Strickler’s laugh was dark and void of mirth, “nice try, but that wasn’t me. I was on the roof briefly, but she was already in bed. Come on, we only have so long to work before nightfall. The nursery isn’t going to build himself.”

“Hey, I though I was just the delivery boy!” NotEnrique protested.

“I thought you might be interested in helping, what with the entire drawer full of argyle socks I have sitting unused in my apartment. I can’t wear them anymore, but I could just as easily feed them to the goblins.”

“Eh-no, I’ll help, I’ll help.” The whelp scurried onto the desk, licking his chops. “I got an eye for what these babies’ll like anyways.”

Walter chuckled and picked up the phone to enter a few numbers into the rotary dial. The ground shook with the whirs of a motor, and then the elevator lowered them down. The murals of Gunmar and the Darklands that once rested proudly against the walls of the elevator shaft, were being slowly scrubbed away, and replaced with images of the Trollhunter’s victory. Barbara herself had taken to painting the majority of it, what with her background in artistry.

“She done a good job,” NotEnrique commented as they glided past her handiwork.

“Yes, she has,” Walter said gruffly as they came to a stop at the bottom. Formerly a stark white with sterile lighting, the main entryway was warmer now, toned with browns and off-whites, and beset with tapestries and plants that better reflected the atmosphere of a facility dedicated to caring for children. There was no telling how long some of the children would be living here. Finding homes would not be an easy process, and there was a chance that some would remain well into their teenage years. More than anything, it needed to feel like a home.

“So boss,” NotEnrique cleared his throat as they walked into a hallway that was still under construction. A few dozen goblins were swinging around on ropes with hard-hats, goofing off more than working, through they straightened up at Walter’s growl. “I hear you-uh, might not be stickin’ around for these kids.”

Walter turned to glare at him. “You are relentless, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, kinda.” The imp replied. “It’s just that we was all thinkin’ you’d be there to help foster ‘em.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to be.” Walter said, clutching the stone closer to his chest. He looked down to see the faces of a thousand sleeping babies. “But there are dangers associated with my proximity to them. You may be one of The Pale Lady’s creations, but you were never sworn to her. It’s not a pact one can ever truly escape. I’ve done what is necessary to ensure the survival of our race over the centuries, but it often came at a cost. In the case of Morgana, the price was high.”

“What’r’ya worried about her for? The team already took care of her.”

“You’ve locked the witch in her gingerbread house.” He said as they entered the great room where the order had formerly erected a throne for Gunmar’s return. “Eventually, she’s going to eat her way out.”

With the room gutted out, their voices echoed along the walls. A handful of goblins eyed them warily as they assembled one many cribs spaced throughout the chamber.

“Yeah, but probably not for another few centuries, right? Gunmar ain’t even around to bring her out of her cage this time.”

“There will always be others who are hungry for power, and she will always find a way to whisper into their hearts.” Walter said as he set the cradlestone into one of the assembled cribs. NotEnrique half-expected Walt to tuck the rock in for the fond look he was giving it.

“She is the Mistress of Shadows,” the older changeling went on as he reached for the power drill he’d left there a few nights before. “Banishing her to the realm she commands is bound to be temporary, and with Merlin afoot she will be nothing if not entirely dedicated to the task of seeking revenge against him. What Claire did was harrowing, and demonstrated skill far beyond her years, but it will not contain Morgana forever. ”

NotEnrique crawled to the top of the crib containing the cradlestone to perch at the top of its rail. “Well, what _will_?”

“I don’t know.” Walter’s hands fell to his sides. “Merlin is one of the most powerful wizards to ever grace this realm, yet in the end, even _his_ tactics failed. Morgana surpassed him in every way.”

“She was a student of his, weren’t she?”

“Yes,” he confirmed, “and, legend has it, leader of a sisterhood of nine who ruled over _Insula Pomorum,_ otherwise known as Avalon. All who came to her shores found prosperity and eternal life. Of her talents, it is written: 'Gramina cuncta ferant ut languida corpora curet / Ars quoque nota sibi qua scit mutare figuram / Et resecare nouis quasi dedalus aera pennis.'* Shorthand, she was a skilled healer and shapeshifter who harnessed the power of flight. That second gift she bestowed upon our kind, the third we have seen of her. The first is perhaps the most tragic. Of note is that her sisters, if they were real, possessed similar skills, perhaps enough to match her own. In order to find them, one would have to locate Avalon.”

“Wouldn’t Merlin know?” The smaller changeling adjusted his diaper.

“I’m not sure,” Walter shook his horned head, and then knelt down to begin piecing together the nearest unassembled crib. “I don’t know when their paths crossed. It seems that he must have seen her talents and offered to teach her more. Whatever he _does_ know, he’s not going to be keen to share with a changeling. Her name implies that she was sea-born, so it’s likely somewhere off of the Atlantic--the abundance of fruit and life suggests the tropics. Could be _Atlantis_ , for all we know. And, of course, there’s also the possibility that it could be in a lake. A large one. Some stories propose that she and her sisters raised Lancelot, whose epithet “du lac” indicates a lake; other’s hint at a different lady, equally as powerful--perhaps Morgana’s successor once she left Avalon.”

“Sounds like needle in a haystack stuff to me.”

“It is,” he set a screw in place, and drilled it in,, “and meanwhile, the children are at risk. They will pose a threat to Morgana if they are ever allowed to harness the magic they’ve absorbed. She won’t stand for it, especially knowing Merlin could be their teacher.”

“And your gonna leave the Doc to deal with all o’ that?” The imp scratched at the back of his scruff.  
“You got a funny way of showin’ her you love her.”

“I am doing what is necessary.”

“Eh, I don’t buy it.” the imp waved the older changeling off, “You don’t realize how lucky you are, boss. She was fillin’ up a tissue sayin’ you accused her of thinkin’ you were some sort of animal. That ain’t the way the lady sees ya’ .You know, the night before Gunmar got his butt whooped, I got curious. I asked if the whole part-troll thing bothered her when it came to you. She said that her love was capable of filling any vessel, even if it was, and I quote, ‘a seven foot slab of sexy green rock,’ and that the who mattered way more than the what, as long as that ‘who’ was willing to work on what he’d done. Gave many some hope for my own future, ya know? Not many humans think like that, especially after all the stunts you pulled on her.”

“And that’s the heart of it, isn’t it? She ought to have someone worthy of that mindset.”

NotEnrique snorted, and crawled down into the crib to look at the cradlestone. “Why’d you have me bring the babies all the way out here anyways?”

“It’s my turn to watch them. Barbara’s shift starts in an hour. It shouldn’t be up to her to consistently have to locate a babysitter. I’m not going to leave her to it all like that _idiot_ James.”

“So you _do_ wanna stick around!” NotEnrique pointed and smiled at his own cleverness with getting Walter to admit the truth. “You don’t got all of this thought out yet. I might be a few centuries younger, but I can see you’re conflicted. You know the doc don’t wanna be without ya. And whats more, I seen the way you look at that stone. You wanna be a father.”

Walter paused and looked at him with sudden intensity, the flare of something burning behind his gaze. It wasn’t anger, or fear but--sadness? Vulnerability? No, _longing._

“You wanna family, just like I do.” The imp said from behind the bars of the crib. "Deep down, we're the same thing."

The chime of Walter’s cell phone filled the air as he blinked at his younger constituent. It took him a few moments to register the sound.

“Hello?” he said once he finally answered, standing to stretch his knees.

“Hey Mr. S, uh—you might wanna find a way to get over here to the school. Someone sort of raided your old office and left a note. I don’t know how they got past the lock, but it was a clean entry." _Nein, Nein!_ Walter heard someone shouting in the background. Toby made a sound, "Señior Uhl didn’t even know all that was back there. He’s pretty freaked out.”

“Ask him if he’ll drive to downtown Omni Reach to pick me up. He’s got those ridiculous tinted windows. Is AAARRRGGHH!!! with you?”

“Nah, he stayed home to help Nana clean out the attic. We’re gonna move Dictatious up there.”

“Perfect,” he toyed with a knife on his cloak. “Text me once he’s on his way.”

“Is that the doc?” NotEnrique asked.

“No,” he rumbled. “It’s Toby. Someone broke into my old office, which means they were able to pick the lock. I may have rigged my key-pen so that the children could open it, but the lock is still enchanted. They’ve found a note from another changeling.”

The two looked at each other with widened eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * quote from _Vita Merlini_ by Geoffrey of Monmouth


	3. The Mend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quickly written, I'm afraid, but hopefully a fun read despite inevitable typos. Enjoy!

“Hey! Easy on the scruff!” NotEnrique squirmed within Walter’s grasp as the larger changeling walked them towards the exit of Omni Reach. Outside, Uhl waited beside his truck.

“Quiet,” Walter shushed as he opened the entrance door and nodded to his former coworker.

“Warum, Strickler?” Señor Uhl said as he held Susannah’s passenger door open. He’d parked as close as he could to the front of the agency's door, even driving up onto the sidewalk, but there was still a patch of sunlight to traverse, though it was small.

“I didn’t order this Otto-er, Uhl.” Walter grunted as he felt his skin sizzling in the patch of light. Tossing NotEnrique into the back, he hopped into the passenger’s seat, scooting back as Uhl glared at him. “It was a random attack.”

“There is an entire office _behind_ my office. With creepy little skeletons and battleaxes.” Uhl waggled his fingers in the air as he described that scene, then shut the door and came around to start the engine. “What am I going to find out next, that Susannah is a robot?" He asked as he drove off. "I came here for an easy life. Not this circus show.”

Strickler laughed darkly, “trust me, life will never go as you planned it.”

“Oi! what does a guy have to do to get some good beats in here?” NotEnrique’s face jutted out from between the front seats.

“Put your seat belt on,” Walter barked, turning to shove the imp back into the rear seat “And keep the cradlestone strapped to your person.”

“You’re not me da!”

“Careful with the horns, Strickler!” Uhl yelped. “They’ll rip through the roof.”

“I know where my horns are.” The changeling growled at him, but then softened at the fear in the Austrian’s eyes. “Sorry,” he faced forward and put his hands in his lap. “It’s been a rough week. I’m not at my finest.”

The seat-belt clicked behind them. “Yeah, old bossman here’s been arguin’ with his girl. Hey, I think I need a car-seat!” The imp squirmed in the middle seat.

“You have _very_ loose lips, for a changeling.” Walter grumbled. “And you’ll have to make due with the lap belt.”

NotEnrique blew a raspberry at him.

“Is this your son?” Uhl asked as he focused on the road.

“Gracious no, I would never have survived it.”

“Hey!” Notenrique whined. “I’m a walk in the park compared to what these babies are gonna be like when you’re havin’ to take care of ‘em!”

“Oh?” Uhl perked up, “is Ms. Lake expecting?”

“Erm, no, no.” Walter cleared his throat, watching the trees go by through the tinted windows as they drove past the local park. “It’s a long story.”

“I probably wouldn’t understand it anyways.” Uhl attempted to diffuse the tension. “I hope it works out with you an Jim’s mother. You two have quite the chemistry, if Lawrence’s stories are to be believed.”

“Oooh!” NotEnrique grinned, rubbing his paws together. “What stories?”

“Oh look, we’re here!” Walter said, offering NotEnrique a smug grin as the imp crossed his arms. Uhl parked under the awning beside the bus stop. “The awning is only blocking half of the sun. I don’t have an umbrella. Do you think you can make it?”

Walter eyes the sliver of shade beneath the passageway. “I think so. Come on, cretin, crawl beneath my cape.”

The younger changeling did as he was told, unbuckling himself from the seat to scurry up onto the headrest of the passenger’s seat. Walter leaned forward, and NotEnrique crawled beneath the cape, the shape of the cradle-stone making the former teacher look like a spiked hunchback.

“Smells like sandalwood trees beneath here," NotEnrique remarked. "You wearin’ cologne?”

“Be quiet, or I’ll make you do this on your own.”

NotEnrique piped down at that. The next few minutes were gingerly spent with Walter side-stepping in the sliver of shade on his tiptoes until he finally reached the school’s doors. With a sigh of relief, he entered the building, and NotEnrique crawled out from beneath the cape and to the ground.

“Right then,” the imp scurried along the polished tile floor, “let’s get this over with.”

"I never thought I'd be so stressed watching someone walk through sunlight." Uhl commented as he entered behind them.

Walter felt a pang of nostalgia as they traversed the halls. He’d been fond of his life here, and of the quiet day-to-day routines. It was one of the biggest things he missed about being human.

“Oh, good, you’re here,” Toby looked relieved as they entered the room. The main office was intact, but the one behind it had been ransacked. Toby sat in the chair of the second desk, holding a dagger with a note sticking out from the blade while the other two leaned in around him.

“What took you guys so long?" Steve spread his arms with incredulity as Uhl and Walter walked towards them. "It’s a good thing the creepslayerz were here, because if there was any real trouble, it would’ve been long gone before you got here.”

“They can’t travel easily in daylight, Steve,” Eli explained. “Geez, get it together.”

“Have I mentioned how weird it is that you’re green?” Steve looked at Walter. “I mean, it’s not like a nice green either, it’s kinda, _puke_ green.

NotEnrique laughed as he crawled on top of the desk and set the cradlestone down.

“I think you mean bile,” Eli added.

“Guys, what the heck,” Toby interjected, coming to stand beside them, “that’s really rude. Besides, it can look kinda pretty in certain kinds of lighting, almost like a rain forest green, you know?.”

“Did you just call him pretty, buttsnack?” Steve grinned.

“You heard me.”

“Hey! You can call other guys pretty,” Eli crossed his arms.

“Alright, alright, that’s enough,” Walter’s voice smoothed across the room, rough but instructive, “Eli is correct. I can’t walk around in the sunlight like I used to, and a lot of the old tunnels and sewers were damaged in the wake of the tremors from the dying Heartstone, so my options are limited. I’m looking for a way to mend that, but it will take some time, and I hardly care what any of you think about the pigment of my stone. Now, where is the note?” He held his hand out expectantly.

"Maybe we can make him like, a _huge_ umbrella hat that sits on his horns.” Steve commented as Toby handed Walter the dagger.

“No,” the slits of Walters eyes narrowed as he gingerly removed the paper from the blade. His clawed hands traced over the engraving on his chin as he concentrated on the letter.

“If you don’t stop interrupting, Mr. Palchuk," Uhl grumbled from the sidelines, "I am going to send you back to class. You were in the middle of math, I believe.”

"Nooo!" Steve shrank at the idea. After that, the five of them stood in silence as Walter processed the information.

“Well, what’s it say boss?” Notenrique asked from the top of Uhl’s desk.

“It about the cradlestone,” he rumbled out an explanation. “And my suspicions that this is a changeling are further confirmed. No name is given, but it seems that whoever this is wants their familiar. Word about the cradlestone is certainly spreading. We will need to open it soon.”

“Alright, time to bust some babies out of rock-jail!” Toby shouted!

“Dude, are you and Dr. Lake gonna take care of _all_ of them?” Steve asked. “You two should be on one of those reality shows.”

Eli cocked a brow, “yeah, I don’t think they want that kind of attention.”

“We’ll call it “Creep-raisers!”

"Ugh," Toby slapped his face.

“I am starting to get the hint that this cradle-thing is what you two were chattering about in the truck,” Uhl said.

“Yeah mostly," NotEnrique scratched his diaper. “Is that all it says on there, daddy-o?”

Walter rolled his eyes at the imp.

“They want to meet me to discuss matters later tonight," he went on, shoulders shrugging as the idea. "It’s a trap, no doubt, but I’ll have to do it.”

“Me and Wingman can back you up from a distance.” Toby chimed in.

"Kinda like what we did with you guys and Bular with the Killahead bridge."

"That's not a bad idea," Walter tilted his head.

“Hey! The creepslayerz can help out, too!”

“Actually,” Walter’s yellow eyes fell on Steve, “I'd like you two to watch over the cradlestone. Whoever this is, they’re likely to go looking for it in my apartment or the Lake household. It would be better if we hid it in a different location, where the two of you could watch over it." 

"We'll go to my house," Steve said, taking to the idea. "The coach'll be there, too." 

"Good. Go ahead and take it now, in case something happens.” Walter picked up the stone and, with noticeable hesitation, gave it to the boy. "I'd rather be safe."

“Aww, this is going to be Flip all over again!” Eli whined.

“We can do it Pepperjack.” Steve asserted as he took the cradlestone and zipped it into his backpack. “It’ll be just like old times.”

“And don’t damage it, “ Walter flashed his teeth, “or it’ll be your heads.”

"'ey and while you two are sittin' cozy at home ask the Lawrence guy about these stories involvin' the Doc and bossman, here," NotEnrique snickered.

Walter flashed his teeth at the imp, growling under his breath.

“The three of you ought to be getting back to class.” he urged, looking over his former pupils. “Since I can’t leave anyways, I will stay here to clean up and devise a plan. If you would, I'd like you to stop by before you leave for the day so we can finalize matters.”

"We can do that," Toby pointed finger guns.

"Where'm I goin'?" NotEnrique asked.

"Oh, _you're_ doing the majority of the cleaning." Walter grinned maliciously, grabbing the imp before he could scurry away.

“I have a few students dropping by to receive detention.” Uhl looked at him. “I don’t know how to explain the sudden renovations, or you.”

“Don’t worry,” He urged them all out and stepped back into the secret office. Pressing the button to close the bookshelf on himself and NotEnrique. "No one will ever know it was here. 

"How did you...?" The interim Principal's eyes widened. 

But Walter only smiled as he disappeared behind the mechanism, chuckling as it firmly clicked into place.

***

Hours later, the hunt was on.

Walter's steps were panther-soft against the cold ground as he peered around the dimly lit forest, searching for signs of movement. So far, no one had shown up ar their little rendezvous point, which meant it was certainly a set-up. When more time passed and still nothing came, he flexed his wings, and prepared to launch into the air.

A snap in the branches caught his attention right as he was about to jump, and he looked up just in time to catch the barbed and pink-glowing end of a chain whip flying towards his face. With a grunt, he dodged backwards and into a crouch, reaching up to his steel-feathered collar to throw a volley of darts in the direction of his attacker. Half-of them landed in random tree stumps awhile the other half whirred into the forest at lightning speed. The whip came around again to wrap around one of his legs, pulling him off balance, and he caught a glimpse of his attacker through the thick of the trees before the figure ran off.

Aquamarine skin and glowing blue eyes...he recognized the figure--one of a few changelings whose human gender did not align with their troll’s. Unlike some, she embraced the dichotomy, identifying fully as a female in one form and fully as a male in the other. Often, he’d seen her working with Otto to hunt down or ferret pieces of the Killahead bridge through their secure systems. She'd had decent rank within the order, and had earned Strickler's respect over the years. Her skill with a chain was unmatched, and she was not to be underestimated.

Taking to the sky, he quickly caught up with her, dipping low enough to where she could hear him plainly.

“I don’t wish to fight you, Sufar,” he called out. “There’s no reason for this. You don’t need the cradlestone.“

“You’re wrong, Stricklander.” She threw the chain whip towards him, missing at first, but tried again until it curled around the base of one wing. Groaning through her teeth, she threw all of her weight against the chain and pulled down. Thrown off balance, Stickler flapped and yelped, crashing on his side against a tree. He could feel his stone skin threatening to crack, and groaning, he brought a hand to his side.

(a mile or so down the mountain, AAARRRGGGHH!!! perked up in the middle of sniffing the trees and bushes in front of Toby. “Changeling in trouble!” he shouted as he hoisted the boy onto his shoulders and made a mad dash up the mountain.)

The chain came flying towards him again, and he jumped up onto the hefty branch of the tree he’d crashed into, hearing the bark split as the barbed tip hit the trunk. From that branch, he jumped to another, and then another, hopping from tree to tree within the forest until he’d put some distance between himself and Sufar.

Grabbing a smaller branch, he quickly sliced some of the loose string from the belt of crystals. Using one of his feather-blades, he cut a deep notch, splitting the top of the branch, and then flipped the blade to insert the thin handle into where he’d cut. Finally, he looped the string around several times, creating a makeshift spear. All of this, he did within moments as the other changeling searched for him.

He could hear the angry crunch of dead leaves as she pursued him, her steps slowing as she got close, and below he spied her looking up into the branches.

It was just as she turned to look in the opposite direction that he jumped down, feet landing against her shoulders as he tumbled with her to the ground, pinning her on her back with the spear to her throat.

“We have a right to our familiars.” Sufar growled, trying to flip him. “The nursery could still be intact, or at least remade.”

“You’d return them?” he balked.

“Precisely,” she offered him a jagged-toothed smile, before finally managing to shove him off. “I’m going to offer what’s left of our brethren something you never could. A real chance.”

“There’s a life here,” he tried at reason, as she swirled the chain whip around before launching it at him. “A place for us coexisting with humanity.”

“Not one where I can walk out in the daylight,” she swung the chain at him over and over, sweeping the chain in dancing arcs that would have been beautiful if not for their deadly nature. “And not one where I can switch forms like I used to. My entire identity has been stolen from me.”

“An ability that comes at the expense of another life.” He argued, deflecting each blow with the spear. “They were never our lives to take. It’s high time we returned them to their rightful owners.”

“I don’t see it that way." She seethed. "It doesn’t hurt them, and it gives us a chance to have unfiltered freedom. Someone’s always paying the price for another’s privilege; doesn’t matter what you do. At least they aren’t aware of what’s going on. They were perfectly happy the way they were.”

“We have taken enough.” Walter’s low growl morphed into a roar and he lunged at the female, wings curling around to knock her over as he jabbed toward her shoulder. He wasn’t aiming to kill—didn’t have the heart for it, after all of the other losses—but the wound would put her out for a time.

She cried out, but he felt a sting of his own along his rib cage, right where he’d crashed into the tree.

AAARRRGGHH!!!’s roar filled the air as he arrived on the scene, the engravings on his body glowing green as he charged towards the aquamarine changeling. Toby followed with his own shouts of: “it’s hammer time!”

“Toby! Lay off!” Walter called out through a hiss, and the boy stopped mid-charge, only to topple backwards with the weight of the hammer. “What? Why?”

AAARRRGGHH!!! already had a hold on the attacker, pinning her to the ground. Walter looked over to see that the spear was true to it’s mark, jutting out of the changeling’s right shoulder and causing a pink-hued liquid to spill out.

“Take her to secure room at the hospital. Now!” Walter ordered, but just as AAARRRGGHH!!! went to pick the changeling up, she twisted out of the large trolls grip. With a scream, she ripped the spear away and dove to grab her scythe, glowing eyes vanishing into the woods as she fled away.

AAARRRGGHH!!! spared a second to look at Toby, saying “you stay Wing-man, he need help,” before he growled and gave pursuit.

Walter sucked in a breath, slowly unfurling the wing he’d unconsciously wrapped around his left half to assess the injury. Blood—bright and as red as a humans—covered his lower torso, as well as the inner part of his wing,

“Oh,” he said as he prodded at the deeper parts of the laceration, eyeing the cracked stone around it.

“Is that—is that blood? Is that--” Toby fainted on the spot, hitting the ground with a thud.

“Some help you are, Walter seethed. With a bloodied hand, he grabbed a crystal from the string along his belt-line. The other crystals clinked along the tether like tiny chimes. Already low on energy from the fight, he spoke a few small lines, voice staccato like hoof beats, holding crystal to his wound only long enough to dull the pain before he rose to his feet.

Striding over to the boy, Walter deactivated the hammer and watched it fold into it’s pocket-sized form when dormant. Bending down, he grunted as he righted the boy, and then placed his hands under his arms. A small whine escaped him as he spread his wings, causing the wound to stretch, but then he leapt in a downbeat and took to the stars.

***

Clouds gathered beneath, growing dark with the threat of rain as Walter flew the boy home. The scent of petrichor, thick and fresh, hit his nostrils, and he landed on the roof of of the Domzalski residence just as the quiet hiss of rain began to spread across its shingles. Sliding Toby’s window open with a wing, he lifted the boy through and hefted him onto the bed. Gnome Chompsky came chattering out of his dollhouse a moment later, peanut in hand, and Strickler politely shooed the creature away.

“He’ll be alright,” Walter explained to the fretting creature, “let him rest.”

After spreading a blanket over his former student (and sparing a small smile for the boy’s unassuming state) he crawled down to the front yard, only to have AAARRRGGHH!!! stride up to him just as he located the garden hose, mossy back wet with rain.

“Any luck?” he winced as the cold water splashed against the wound.

“Changeling too fast. Went to mountains. I lost track.” the great troll rumbled.

“It’s alright, old boy. Better luck next time,” he said as he cleared away the cakes of blood, trying to ignore the rain clouding his vision.

“You hurt bad?” AAARRRGGHH!!!’s nose was suddenly upon him, and the troll sniffed politely at the wound.

“No,” he replied gruffly, stepping back. “I’m afraid it’s gone a little into the bone, but it’s mostly clean.”

“Need medicine.” the large troll said.

“Probably, but it’ll heal well enough on it’s own. There’s no need to fish through Trollmarket, you’ve done more than your fair share of work today.”

“Doctor,” AAARRRGGHH!!! pointed at the Lake household.

“I know, but--”

“MMMMmmm,” the troll rumbled over his words, turning to saunter to the entrance of the the Domzalski household. “Talk,” he said, and squeezed his way into the door.

Walter splashed the water on his face, running his fingers through his hair before he turned the spigot off and set his gaze towards Barbara’s living room. Through the haze of rain, he could see Barbara sitting at the couch, scanning over something on a clipboard. Likely a patient, he surmised. The woman never really stopped working.

Maybe it was time to pay a visit.

***

He shook himself off as he ducked under the awning, spreading droplets of rain across the porch and front door. A taloned finger rose tentatively to ring the doorbell, and he watched with shaking nerves as her slim form came into view behind the glass. Flicking the light on, she undid the lock and opened the door.

To his terror, she said nothing, those blue eyes simply staring at him with all the intensity of a hurricane.

“May I come in?” he managed after his heart stopped thumping in his ears, wings folding in like a wet umbrella.

“Sure,” her voice was weary, _so_ weary, and it struck him to the bone. As she stepped aside to let him through, a wing accidentally brushed her side. Quickly, he tucked it away.

“Walter-” she said as she eyed the red and glowing gash along his rib-cage, breath caught in a gasp.

“It’s alright,” he assured, stepping further into her living room. “I used one of the healing crystals. Lucky for me they were recharged and readily at hand. I typically keep them at the hospital.”

“What happened?” she shut the door, trading pique for worry as she trailed behind him into the room. A hand on his shoulder found him turning around, and she pushed down, guiding him to sit on the couch.

“I’m still wet from the rain,” he argued.

“Just sit,” she pushed again, and he obeyed. “What happened?”

“Another changeling,” he rumbled as she fretted with his rib-cage. “She knows about the cradlestone. I suspect she caught one of the goblins to torture for information.”

“A changeling?” she looked up at him, and he knew he couldn’t hide the excitement in his eyes.

“Yes,” he cleared his throat, “I--didn’t expect to see one so soon, if at all.”

“That’s great...well, sort of.” Her brows furrowed. “Are the babies safe?”

“Oh yes,” he said. “I’ve left them with Steve Palchuck and Eli Pepperjack, of all creatures. They’ll be safe enough, for tonight.”

“You need stitches,” she commented as her hands toyed with the water-laden wounds. “It looks pretty deep here,” at her prod, he winced, “but your skin would break a regular needle.”

“If afraid so.”

He could see the gears turning in her head as her brows furrowed. “We could use super glue to close the wound. Not the best idea with humans, but it shouldn’t be at all toxic to you.”

“That’s--actually a fantastic idea, I hadn’t considered it.”

“I have something else, too. I’ll be right back.”

She ducked into the hallway, and he watched her silhouette behind the cover of the kitchen pass-through as she rifled through a few cabinets, and then the fridge. Moment’s later, she returned with a towel, some gloves, and container full of blue paste. As she opened it and he smelled the fresh tang of eucalyptus and pine sap, mixed with a variety of minerals.

“This is a troll salve,” he remarked, brow cocked.

“Yeah, “ she said, snapping the gloves on before patting the wound down with a portion of the towel. “It took me a few tries, but I finally got it right.”

“You _made_ this?”

“Yeah, I did. I had AAARRRGGHH!!! hunt down some of Vendel’s old codices on troll medicine. They’re fascinating, “ she said, eyes beaming with self-conscious pride. “Of course, I had to face-time Blinky to help with the translations.” She allowed herself a small laugh. “Claire was just as interested as I was in learning how to make it. It’s a relief to know that she and Jim are taking care of each other.”

“Were you able to speak with him? Young Atlas, that is.”

“For a little bit, yes.” She smiled at the memory, and the sight warmed him. “He’s doing great. Helping out with the new infrastructure around the Jersey Heartstone. He wants me to come out and see it sometime.”

“I’ll bet it’s a sight to behold,” he shivered as she smoothed a gloved hand over the salve, the shock waves spreading to his wings.

“You alright?” she asked.

“Better already,” he responded, wanting, more than anything, to kiss that hand.

When she looked up at him, her eyes were long with worry and wonder, lips drawn tightly together, as though afraid to break this small and amicable moment.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help with the translations myself. If I hadn’t been such an arse…” he trailed off, the sinking vulnerability of admission finally taking hold. “You were right. _I’m_ the one having trouble adjusting to this, not you,” he added.

Her cheeks puffed as she released a steadying breath, backing away to remove the gloves and let the salve dry. “Walter, I don’t want to force you into anything you’re not ready for. I shouldn’t have gotten so upset. If you need time, that’s okay.”

A thick swallow found him. ”You had every right to be upset after the way I behaved. My actions have been confusing, primarily because I myself have felt confused. Although my fate is deserved, it is difficult to accept. Watching the sun filter through your hair, spending time with you in the warmth of the day, having the ability to be there any time you needed me...I can’t be the man I want to be for you anymore.” He shifted, bracing his hands against the couch, “and when I look into your eyes, even though I know you’re not asking me to be so, it pains me.”

Her hand slid over his, a gesture he’d often instigated to comfort her in the past. Having the tables turned elicited a small, inhuman sound of pleasure.

“Jim is going through a similar process, Rather than floundering, I _should_ be setting an example, but age makes cowards of us all.” He laughed darkly. “And I _am_ afraid.” The false smile faded; his face went grave as he looked her in the eyes. “For once, not for myself.”

They exchanged a heavy glance.

“I was hoping we could face that fear together.” Her eyes found the ground.

“I know,” he said, heart faltering at her words. “and I pushed you away for it. I shouldn’t have.”

“It’s okay,” she scooted closer, enough to rest her head lightly on the sharp line of his shoulder. “I’ve never been under the illusion that this relationship would be easy. I just hope that you keep trying, Walter, because I’m not ready to give up on us. I really think this could work.”

The tension of days fell away from him in an instant. His wing came around to cocoon her side.

“Me too,” Resting his chin atop her head, he closed his eyes and sighed. “It is difficult to set aside those habits of self-preservation which have been crucial to my existence for so long, especially in trollskin. I’m bound to make mistakes, but I promise to try my hardest to both recognize and rectify them. I’ve never felt such terror and wonder over another creature Barbara—not once. I don’t want to let that go”

Taking his hand, she brought it to her lips, and he watched her lashes flutter closed as she kissed the back of his palm. “Good.”

She turned, drawing back enough for her face to hover just under his, and the spark of recognition for what was about to occur blossomed on his features. A hand at the nape of his neck prompted him to lean closer, his own grip falling to her hips, until the heavy scent of smoke hit his nose.

Eyes that he didn’t even realize he’d closed shot open. “What’s that smell?”

As if on cue, the fire alarm sounded, and in a flourish she untangled herself and flew to her feet.

“Oh!” Her eyes went wide. “My nuggets!” She shouted as she crawled out of his grasp and dashed off.

He stopped blinking long enough to rise and take pursuit, entering the kitchen in time to see her bending over with mitted hands to fish a tray from the oven.

It was just as she set the blackened tray on top of the stove that she heard his deep, quiet laugh behind her, and turned around.

“Oh, you think this is funny?” She peered at him over the rims of her glasses, expression coquettish.

The slits in his eyes were wider for the generous view they’d been allotted of her rear. “Indeed I do,” he approached her, wings rising in confidence once he got close. Bracing an arm on either side of her against the counter, he rumbled humorously at her pout, eyes growing heavy as he brushed the thumb of his wing across her forehead. How strange, he thought, that it had all begun here, in this this quaint little kitchen where he’d made a house-call on his favorite student turned Trollhunter. The moment she'd opened the door that fateful evening--that mess of scrubs, and glasses, and tangled red hair--he'd been charmed. And from that first sip of horrible tea, to the burnt nuggets on the stove now, he'd been hopelessly hers. 

“How I utterly adore you, you could never begin to know.” Walter gazed at her with half-lidded eyes, heart swelling with emotion. 

She hummed as he smoothed his forehead against hers, nudging lightly as something of a purr echoed from his chest. Then, tipping his horned head, he pressed his smooth and stony lips to hers.

Eagerly, she clasped her mitted arms around his neck, and the next few minutes were pure bliss.

“I love you,” she said as she brushed her lips across his tusks, eyes fluttering open to gaze into his.

He cleared his throat a little, more emotional than he’d expected in light of the admission It wasn’t the first time he’d heard those words from her lips, but it flustered his heart all the same.

“I love you too,” he wrapped his arms around her body, and didn’t let go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sufar is using the chain whip like this rope dart: [HERE](https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=viRgHQpMrF0). They are very cool!


End file.
